The Shining Trapezohedron
by Aeon1
Summary: The preceding tale to a much longer story--which will progress into angsty dominating Harry/Snape slash. Dark & macabre, *Chapter 3 up!* We see some of Harry's story and his 'PoV' regarding Severus. Read, review, & enjoy! Thanks.
1. Author's note

Summary

Severus contemplates life and walks voluntarily into imminent death for the sake of another. Voldemort reveals an ambitious plot and toys with things better left lost. Lucius humiliates and somewhere, as usual, Harry Potter makes an appearance. Dark, intense, macabre and hopefully horrific here and there. The first of two parts of a whole story which will progress to eventual Snape/Harry slash, and will most definitely be NC-17. If interested read on.

A bit of a note for any who may be reading.

For starters, this is my first endeavour into HP fanfiction, hopefully I will do it justice. This particular short story(from here on referred to as 'Part One')will precede a much longer tale(from here on referred to as 'Part Two') I plan to write, involving many wacked out things. In Part One(from here on referred to as 'One')there will be no Severus/Harry slash, but in Part Two(from here one referred to as 'Two')it will be the main focus, but be assured, on the fringes will lurk dark and mysterious happenings. What type of happenings? You will have to wait and see.

A bit of a warning for those who prefer to be prepared when entering the unknown.

I tend to be sort of odd, as I'm sure we all do in varying degrees of openess. When on the computer I lose 98% of my inhibitions. I am most definitely lazy, so feel free to harass the hell out of me if I get behind on either 'One'(from here on referred to as '1'), or later on, on 'Two'(from here on referred to as '2'). Yell, scream, and swear, I don't mind. Call me names, compose witty limiricks, both will only help, not harm. And lastly, due to my natural abstractness, some may consider certain portrayals of certain characters 'out of character'--I forsee this as being more prevelant in '2'--so I ask anyone who feels that way, to keep an open mind. There's a fine line between 'OoC' and an authors personal interpretation of that character, if done with planning and tact. Two abilities I lack.

A bit of a request from Yours Truly.

One of the reasons I write fanfic, aside from the joy and rapture it brings to an otherwise meagre existence, is because I would like to become a published author someday. Whether it be a of novel, or one of those sex ed. pamphlets they pass out at school. So if anyone notices any retarded grammar mistakes could you please alert me to them so that I may learn from them. Yes, I am too lazy purchase a book and actually teach myself. Also, If i'm getting to wordy and overly detail-ish feel free to let me know, I may or may not listen.

A bit of an acknowledgement of certain borrowed plot devices.

The 'Shining Trapezohedron', its purpose, and general description, et cetera, were originally conceived by the master of otherwordly horror H.P. Lovecraft. I borrow them in nothing but honor. Though I have elaborated, and designed most of the details on my own. Also, I am an avid music fan, so lyrics may pop up here and there. Sometimes as starter quotes, sometimes as character thoughts, other times out of character's mouths. Each has also been done in nothing but in honor of. I shall place more specific references at the end of any chapter they appear in.

Official disclaimer, never to be seen again.

I don't own anything Harry Potter related, some publishing companies, film companies and JK Rowling do. Nor do I own anything Lovecraftian, other publishing companies own that too. I made no money off of this, in fact I didn't see, or smell any either.


	2. The Probable Conclusion to the Life and ...

**The Probable Conclusion to the Life and Story of Severus Snape  
::A Prologue::**

He was walking. And it was so very hard. With each forced step his feet became slightly heavier; his knees a bit more wobbly. The closer he came to the site whose silhouette he could see in the distance the more light-headed and hollow he felt. He was numb.

The night was reasonably chilly, clear, and quiet-- aside from the sound of the grass yielding to his weight and the pounding of his feeble heart inside its flesh hewn walls. He could hear it, loud and clear, with every pulsing rush of blood. He was nauseous with adrenalin, high on fear. Alone.

Out here like this, he truly felt like the last person on Earth. So he pretended, for a short while as he walked, that he really was alone, in every sense of the word. And though he could feel content and comfortable in the fantasy of it, he knew if it were true he'd be lost and afraid. He'd wish for its contrast, even if the opposite meant the reality of now and he'd still be walking toward his death.

It would be a fitting end to a tragic and misdirected life, one he'd prepared himself for with confession and subsequent enlistment into the 'Just' war. Perhaps saddest of all however, the realization that he, Severus Snape, would not be missed, his behaviour these past eighteen years had made sure of that.

However, he was ready. An unstable and wavering sort of ready that threatened with every fluttering breath to bottom out and send him reeling. But that was as ready as he'd ever be. There was no alternative that wouldn't hold dire consequences for numerous other innocents and he, he was far from innocent. Soon he'd be just another casualty in this underground war.

He was much closer now, the uneven, ruinous rim of the once monumental stone circle clear enough to discern individual rocks against the blue-black of night. The moon a glowing crescent sliver in the darkness, barely there. He shivered in a cold sweat, thinking of all the things he would change if he'd gotten the chance to do it again. So many things, so many mistakes. A few steps later he realized it was bullshit and that everything would turn out the same because at every important juncture he'd made a certain choice because of certain reasons that seemed right at the time to a mind with less perspective the farther back in years he went. And one day, when the universe in all its galactic vastness spiraled and collapsed completely in on itself and began anew in a burst of subatomic light and energy, he'd live again. Time would start at zero and the same processes that had occured so far in this cycle would occur once more. _Always_ the same, down to each speck of dust and rock, and down to every living cell. He'd be _this_ Severus Snape for always, for the pattern had neither a discernable true beginning or ending, it was creation and destruction, it was infinite, and so was he.

Had he not been a mere few yards from the meeting stone, beyond the point of no return, he would have surely collapsed in on himself and sobbed at that final realization. And only his pride and will to not show anymore of his weaknesses to the figure standing next to the stone kept him upright. He pulled the hood of his robe up over his head, wishing to hide himself away, he didn't want to see the smug smile he knew would be on that bastards face, or look into those glittering inhumanly grey eyes. Just keep walking, up to the stone and past it. Ignore _his_ prescence, ignore it all. Keep going, just keep walking.


	3. One More Ghost...

~One More Ghost...~

The monolithic stones towered above him, so high. They never failed to inspire awe in him, and not only by their size but with their secrets, so many secrets. He felt a certain kinship with the ancient structure in that sense, and even a bit of comfort from it. He would die inside it's ageless circle and his death would only add to the mystery of the place. One more ghost to haunt the darkness.

A long and elegant finger uncurled itself and prodded Severus in the small of his back, refocusing his mind on the outside world. He took a stuttering step forward, not having remembered stopping in the first place, and still gazing up at the stones around him.

"Keep moving......_traitor_."

_Lucius_.... a fleeting thought, accompanied by bitter memories and a familiar pang deep down in the most warded confines of his heart.

Regret. An unrelenting emotion. In considerable doses it consumes ones mind the way maggots can fully devour an abandoned corpse on a single warm mid-summer afternoon. Unfortunately, its pace is much slower, more gradual, and one must be alive to feel it. Severus was a virtual melting pot of regret, despair, self reproach, and despondency. Used too and in fact immune--or so he believed--to the myriad of side effects that accompany prolonged exposure to such a fragile mental state. Neglect of his physical appearance, he told himself, was due to a staunch and proud resistance of trivial social norms: he'd wash himself when he damn well felt it neccessary. And as for his pessimistic, obstinate, vindictive, contemptible and not to mention viscious demeanor, well...that all stemmed from years of being misundertood and an increasingly higher level of intolerance to the idiocy that surrounded him on a daily basis. Yeah, right, that was it. Wasn't it?

He passed soundlessly between the immortal monoliths toward the center where Severus knew _It_ was waiting. It would know as soon as Severus stepped into the horse shoe of stones that he was alone, that he hadn't fulfilled his mission. It could probably sense that already.

As he neared the center and the altar stone he could see the Dark Lord, and felt the dense waves of hatred flowing from it's wraith-like form like body heat. Three feet before Voldemort he stopped, his legs unable to bring him any closer than that, and released the breath he'd been holding. _Please allow me to stay here, say this is close enough._

A foul, rotting stench assaulted his senses, burning his nostrils, and fogging his mind with sickness. He allowed his eyes to close for a brief moment, allowed them a rest from the prolific disgust surrounding him. Memories.

Severus could vividly remember every detail (photographic memory be damned) of his initiation into Club Death Eater, the day he was stamped with a mark that would last until he was nothing but a rancorous mass of decay, and probably long after that. His soul had gone to the highest bidder at a price even he couldn't top at the time; signed, sealed, and delivered within the blood of his innocence. And though by now he'd become very nearly desensitized to all manner of horror and personal afliction, there still remained one thing with the power to shine through the effects of his most potent sleeping potions, to plague his sub-conscious even in its darkest recesses - and they were beholding him even as the thought was conjured. Each blackened pupil glaring at, in, and through him. Both swirling voids of total, sinful selfishness, the kind of emptiness he could so easily loose himself in, the very absence of soul. He nearly choked, barely suppressing the rise of sickly sour bile threatening to bubble over in defiance.

"Severusssssss," his name whispered, carried on the twirling motes of atmosphere, and tingling up his spine like a spider. So imperceptible to his ears that perhaps it was never really spoken at all, perhaps, but not. The half grin on the speakers face betrayed the truth, he had been officially addressed.

"You know why you're here.......don't you....Severussss?"

_Breathe, keep breathing. Don't lose your nerve_...... He steeled himself.

"Of course," a solemn affirmation.

Voldemort chuckled, a sound devoid of any living humor, the product of something undead.

He shivered. _I'm not here._

"Good Severus, so very obediant," it paused, the one he refused to categorize under any sentient pronoun, resuming after a moments suspense. "So out with him, out with the boy!" The words flew forth in a flurry of spit and slather wrought with hatred. Severus flinched.

_Breathe! _

"Master, I apologize," he struggled for a reply, painfully aware of its futility. "I have failed to locate Potter's summer dwelling on such short notice, such material is highly confidential, perhaps-"

"Silence! Do you beggar me a fool Severus?" The Dark Lord glared, and Snape felt himself go cold, an icy chill skating through his bones. "We have an honest relationship don't we Severus? I can sense a liar you know. Don't you, Severusss?"

If Voldemort was seeking an answer to any of those questions, he was pissing in the wind. Fear had a vice grip on his vocal cords, while denial worked to wrap his brain up warm, secure, and safe.

_I'm not here._

Lucius prowled around him, hovering on the fringes of his personal space, invading his aura just enough to be disturbing. His presence tainted the air, making it impossible to concentrate.

"Answer me, Severusss."

He struggled an intense inner battle, why in Merlin's name couldn't he respond. Was this how he wanted it to end? His final moments suffered in fearfilled silence, mind a miasma of panic and surreal resignation. Speak damnit-

"Talk!....wretch."

He fell forward as one knee was kicked from behind, jarring his thoughts and dropping him onto all fours in front of Voldemort. Sweat dripped off his face, pale from the sudden shock of pain. And once more he came close to vomiting.

Gathering composure, he attempted to rise, fearing the vulnerability of his current position. He made it to one knee, but had made a grievous error in losing sight of Lucius. Not a wise manuever, realized seconds after a binding spell rendered his limbs immobile. His eyes widened in surprise and panic, the groan of frustration at his own stupidity morphing midway into a harsh cry of anguish as he was kicked once more, this time in the back, and unable to stop himself from landing face first in the dirt.

_That there. That's not me._

Stalking over, Lucius bent down, grasping his hair and yanked him violently back up to his knees. He winced at the pain, refusing this time to give his former friend the satisfaction of sound. He'd already made a great fool of himself, grass and mud all stuck to his face. Pleasant. His eyes darted to Voldemort, having perceived movement. The Dark lord drew near him.

"I'm very dissappointed Severusss. Consider my previous offer and generosity nullified. Your insolence cannot go unpunished," Voldemort bared his teeth in a once human grin, licking his incisors with a brackish tongue.

_In a little while, I'll be gone._

"So goddamn hot when you're helpless on your knees, Sevey."

Severus chose to ignore Lucius' whispered comment, preferring instead to gaze through spaces in the gigantic stones at the horizon, the last he'd ever lay eyes on, this was the final and greatest moment of his life. Death. The enigmatic beyond. Resolve to remain dignified and stoical preventing a flinch of abhorrence and general revulsion when an icy hand grabbed his chin and began to squeeze. Under no circumstances would he relent. The grip on his jaw tightened. No matter what, no giving in. This would be his glorious moment.

"Open up, Severusssss. Or suffer."

No way in hell.

"Yes Sevey, do. Just pretend you're going to suck my dick. You used to love doing that, remember?" Lucius provoked.

That arrogant bastard.

"Fuck off."

Voldemort released him and stepped back, the nod to his captor not escaping the captives wary eye. He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught sure to come from Lucius. As luck would have it the elder Malfoy was feeling physically lazy and his patience was waning. A swift, but powerful blow to the side of the head was all he deigned to enact with his own latent energy. And chose, as Severus fought to right himself and stand up, the subtley spoken, always effective, and pleasurable to watch Cruciatus Curse, as a further means of abuse.

The thing about Cruciatus was that, aside from causing excruciating (hence the name) pain, it screwed with the mind. Nerves and synapses a jumble of confused and out of wack cell-ectric impulses, causing images, feelings, emotions and memories to flood from sub-conscious to conscious. And for Severus the agony of liberated repression was, by far, the worse torture implemented, ever. So he writhed and cursed and screamed himself hoarse, a lifetime of anguish clawing at his sanity, once more set free to wreak its usual amount of havoc. An eternity in a world of scourge--three minutes real time--later he threw up, and then promptly passed out.

~~~~~~~

He groaned, eye lids flickering. Hopefully someone had gotten the number off that train that hit him. And trust he'd have a word with who ever laid the track through his bedroom. He shivered and reached out to pull up his blankets clutching onto grass instead. Grass? Oh, what the fuc-

Severus gasped, inhaling saliva and choking on it when he was abruptly hauled to his feet, arms held awkwardly behind his back. His head hung forward as he coughed, but before he was allowed a sufficient breath, a hand lifted his chin forcing his head back and poured a silky liquid down his throat. He coughed again and was released, collapsing to the ground, his muscles like rubber--an after effect of Cruciatus.

"Did he drink it?"

"Yes, Master," Lucius purred.

Drink what? "Wha-what was....what did you...," he coughed again and staggered to his feet, glaring wildly back and forth between the Dark Lord and Malfoy. Growling he wiped spit and the unknown substance off his mouth with the back of his hand. "What the fuck did you give me?"

"Tsk, tsk.....language, Severusss," Voldemort hissed, waving a rot-encrusted finger in the air at him.

Rage boiled over, anger swelling to mass proportions and blacking out rationality, Severus launched at Voldemort. He'd strangle that abomination with his bare hands if he had to, drain it of life with ten well placed fingers, and he might have succeeded had another binding spell not ensnared his legs mid-motion. Once again he found himself toppling ungracefully to the damp earth.

"As much as I desire to end your miserable existence right now Severusss, you of all people should know how I do so love to play." And with a flick of his wand and a few soft spoken words, Severus was levitated at a speed that made his stomach turn and bound with enchanted cords to one of the many massive stone slabs encircling them. The irony of it all certainly not alluding him. How many deaths could he call witness to that played out in this exact fashion. Fifteen? Twenty? Possibly more? Fitting and yet the lump growing in his throat and the wettness collecting in the corners of his eyes betrayed an exterior of acceptance. In the long run he had failed and further more he wasn't ready. Hell was exceptionally foreboding when so near its boundaries one could feel the heat of timeless primordial fires.

Voldemort hovered upside down toward him, robes dragging across a world that was now below him. His face was flush as gravitys immense influence drew a considerable amount of blood to his head, hair dangling, arms splayed out on either side of him, legs clamped together. The reflection of the traditional crucifiction that the Dark Lord preferred. Lucius sidled up to him, leaning on the stone and Severus found himself nearly eye level with the other mans crotch.

"So Sevey...," God how he hated being called that. "How about a quick blow job for old times sake?"

He chose to ignore that question, fighting a losing battle with overwhelming emotions, but Lucius pressed further, twisting the blade he'd stuck in Severus' heart a decade previous.

"Say it Severus, tell me you love me once more before you die so I can have a good laugh. You do still love me don't you, Sevey?" He spoke the question with a pout on his perfect lips and a hateful glint in his eye.

And a funny thing happened, funny and revolting all at once--he said yes. _He said yes!!_ His voice defied him and rather than the string of insults he had settled on, it blabbered the truth. The realization struck him like a bludger to the gut, there was certainly no question as to the identity of the potion they'd forced on him. Had Severus eaten that day he'd have surely done more than dry-heave at the wrenching pain in his chest and the utter humiliation he'd felt for having ever confessed his inner-most feelings to that ethereal demon. He swallowed hard, some escaping tears sliding over his forehead and into his hairline.

_This is not happening!_

Lucius went down on one knee and stroked Severus' cheek with deft and seductive fingers, he leaned close and whispered. "You haven't been laid once since me have you?" Lips grazed the shell of his ear and his body responded instantly.

"No," the accursed truth dribbled forth again.

"Aww, well I can't fuck you now, but I can have just as much fun with your corpse," the lips skirted his prominent cheekbones and a pink tongue darted out to lick a path to his mouth. All the blood that wasn't currently pooling around his brain rushed to his groin and when that tongue pushed its way past his own lips he responded, cursing his shattered will. A moment later Lucius pulled back, grinning at his victory, straightened up and strolled away with a chuckle.

The sob Severus'd been holding at bay erupted from his throat and had he not been hanging there helplessly he'd have saved Voldemort the trouble and slashed his own neck. The hatred he felt for himself escalating to a level out of space and out of time. Voldemort hovered nearer and so he begged, knowing it was a waste of the last of his breaths, but he was beyond humility. Death would be a grand relief.

"Now, Severus. You know I would never be able to live with myself without at least proving my suspiscions of your traitorous ways. And what better way than with Veritaserum. Some of your very own stuff I might add."

With that the questioning began, tears flowing throughout until it was impossible to cry or deny any longer and he answered them all in a resigned monotone. Chalk one up for good old Faith. He was empty. And he'd changed his mind. Now was as fine a time as any for reflecting.

~~~~~~~

_The sun had been setting when he'd arrived. A very drab and depressing sunset in a monochrome sky all grey and mist. To the east moonlights reflection fought to penetrate the dense fog. It was cold and damp and miserable overall._

_He had felt at the time that he could relate quite well with the atmosphere, indeed his mood was very much as drab and grey. As it always was when entering the presence of a wizard he despised, abhorred, and feared with every conscious nerve in his body. Each liason potentially his last._

_He'd stood before Voldemort with more than the usual amount of foreboding. He could never claim to be a seer, but some things he could feel, darker things. He'd listened closely for his demands, and his heart had unwillingly elated at the Dark Lords first utterance of freedom. A task needed performing, one that would relieve Voldemort of certain suspiscions and secure him a greater chance of success in the upcoming battles._

_Unfortunately, as it tends to do, reality snagged him back from dreams of freedom and releasal. He'd known, deep down, the price would be too high, and it had been. Not that he'd have accepted anyway, things were never cut and dry with the Dark Lord. Though he wouldn't deny that he had entertained the notion briefly; wondering how bad a world ruled by evil could really be. But no, he couldn't comply, he could only lie for the time being, agree to the terms, and perhaps fantasize later of accepting them. Trading Harry Potter for his freedom was a definite non-possibility, tempting as it may be._

~~~~~~~

s'it for now. Another section should be up in a week or less for those interested. Thanks and hoped you liked it.

'Breathe, keep breathing. Don't lose your nerve.  
I'm not here  
That there. That's not me.  
In a little while, I'll be gone.  
This isn't happening.'  
All of the above are select Radiohead lyrics. A totally chill and awesome Brit. band I love. Rock on.


	4. A Dream within a Dream

**Title:**The Shining Trapezohedron (2/?)  
**Author Name:** Aeon  
**E-mail:**Amorphousaeon@aol.com  
**Category:**Angst/Darkfic  
**Keywords:**Severus Snape, Voldemort, Harry/Snape  
**Rating:**R  
**Spoilers:**All four books to be safe. Though I have no clue really since I haven't finished writing the story.  
**Summary:**Voldemort demands of Severus an impossible task to prove his loyalty, and he must return empty handed. Dark and macabre happenings ensue as a sacrifice is made, homes are broken, and the Dark Lord trifles with ancient relics better left lost.  
The preceding story to a much longer tale which will include such things as, angsty dominating Harry/Snape slash, Life, Death, mental deterioration, enlightenment, and love.  
**Disclaimer:**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Also, 'The Shining Trapezohedron', it's purpose, and general description are borrowed in nothing but in honor of from the master of otherworldly horror H.P. Lovecraft. Some of the extra effects and details I created however. On top of that there are Radiohead song lyrics incorporated as some of Severus' thoughts in italics, also used in honor of. Also some Coldplay and Smashing Pumpkins. I'll probably list them all individually at the end.  
**Authors Note:**So, let's see, there will be no Harry/Snape slash in this particular part. As said in the summary this leads into the next story, which unfortunately cannot be posted here because it will be NC-17. It will be posted on Fanfiction.net. This chapter pretty much picks up directly where the last left off. And that's really all I have to say.

Oh, and please review so I know if this is going good. Even if you simple write 'Keep writing!' or 'Screw you, I'm going home'.

~A Dream Within a Dream~

"Are you a spy for Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

A growl. "Eighteen years."

~~~~~~~

_At the time he'd written them, pages that concluded almost three decades worth of diaries, he'd felt suprisingly alive, dare he admit_giddy_. It had been around 3:00 a.m., and while the common world was enveloped in slumber--dreamful, dreamless, or otherwise--he'd remained obliviously wide awake. Perhaps, more awake than he had ever been in his entire forty-three years. And with the powerful contrast of death looming just over the horizon, so unfathomable in its concreteness and its inevitability, he'd felt Life. He'd breathed, tasted, and reveled in it. A small word for such and amazing and profound part of reality. It buzzed and tingled in his body, so tangible._

_Finally he'd understood the gift, and might have laughed at the simplicity of it had he thought of it under any other circumstance. One didn't have to be happy about their situation to be grateful for being born, and he didn't have to love his life to love living. So uncharacteristically optimistic a revelation for someone intrinsically pessimistic. So ironic that it surfaced just hours before an alloted time in which he would surely be wiped clean from this plane of existence. He'd made his decision, he would die for the boy. He'd only hoped, at the very least, for that to be acknowledged. Harry needed more time, to train, to prepare, and to mature. He'd go to Voldemort empty handed and deal with the consequences. There was nothing else left to do._

_And with that, being the last time he'd ever have the luxury, he'd sat hunched over his antique writing desk and expressed his self the only way he'd ever known how--by writing. He wrote down every thought, not caring to censor a single one no matter how nonsensical or random._

_It had been humid that night in his sitting room and he was sweating profusely--though whether it could be attributed to that or the fear he hadn't been sure. His raven black hair had hung limply around his face, strands of it sticking to his perspiration soaked forehead. For once he'd resisted the urge to swipe it away, instead taking comfort in the certainty of it. The same comfort he'd taken in the tiny droplets that slipped down his temples, or glided down his back, tickling fine hairs and soaking into layers of thick wrinkled fabric. He loved his sweat, and he'd written it down._

_Time had ticked away, his quill always moving at a steady pace, pausing only now and then to refill on ink. As he'd worked his heart had beat steadily quicker, his breath trickling out from between chapped lips in ragged, unsteady gasps. How odd that now that he had a finite number of them left, each one felt so important and meaningful. He loved oxygen._

_He'd come to many of those inane conclusions that evening, and he'd included them all. Like how desperately he enjoyed the scratching of his quill across blank paper and how much he'd miss it. Like how staring into the hypnotic flicker of shadows produced by dancing candlelight invoked mystical feelings in him, and sometimes inspired poetry. And how peaceful he'd felt when gazing at the ripples in the lake on breezy autumn afternoons. He would miss them all._

_Words had laid themselves onto the paper in swiftly forming sentences and paragraphs. The nearer to morning it became the more things he'd found he had left to say. Regrets and sorrows, loves and appeals for forgiveness, he had novels of them and still there was more. So much more._

_And through it all he'd marveled a bit about what a closet sap he'd turned out to be. It seemed that when he'd been in his final hours, that he could stand outside himself and look in at what and who he really was. He was Severus Snape, the thinker, the observer, the fucking romantic at heart. And he'd laughed at himself. Always a drama when Snape was around. He was the undisputed master of the grand entrance. His absence would undoubtedly have a noticeable impact on the schools atmosphere, though most likely a positive one, but one nonetheless. Christ he'd miss his billowing robes, his glorified sneer, taking points from Gryffindor. Why he'd even miss that son of a prat Harry Potter. Having been forced to spend a full two school years training the boy on how to better protect himself, and preparing him for a battle he'd undoubtedly be a part of--whether he liked it or not--they'd gotten to know one another. A mutual respect formed of its own accord as both realized how alike they were when stripped down to the core. Of course they'd still run into problems, one especially great one toward the end of sixth year, which had effectively blotted out the forming friendship. And as Severus had reminded himself, on a near daily basis, it had been inevitable. Though he couldn't help wondering what would have happened if he'd allowed the brief and unexpected tryst to continue. For a boy he'd been quite the adept kisser. At that his quill had admittedly scraped to a halt. He couldn't write that. He'd wondered if he was losing his mind, then decided with a huff it didn't matter either way when one was dead. Death. Dying. There was that pang again, he hated it, but he'd miss it._

_As he'd come to the last page his words, previously indirected and meant for any fool who may be reading them, experienced polar reversal. He'd begun writing them like he would have spoken to Albus. Expressing gratitiude for an instance of compassion in a time he'd most needed it, one for which he'd would have surely perished without, one that had ultimately changed his life._

_He'd intended to convey more to the man who'd held unwavering faith in him throughout the years, but realized that he neither had enough space or the appropriate words to do it. Albus wouldn't have had it anyway, so he finished it up with a list of the students he'd assigned lengthy detentions to that day, ensuring that they serve up even in his absence. And finally concluded it with the fragment of a poem his great uncle had composed in his youth. One that had always held meaning with him, and would certainly convey that meaning to Albus._

_'I stand amid the roar  
of a surf-tormented shore,  
and I hold within my hand  
grains of the golden sand--  
How few! yet how they creep  
through my fingers to the deep,  
while I weep--while I weep.  
O God! can I not grasp  
them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
one from the pitiless wave?  
Is all that we see or seem  
but a dream within a dream?'_

~~~~~~~

_Here's to saving one._

Lucius jumped forward angrily. "So it was you who revealed all of our names to the ministry?"

He swallowed, "All, but yours."

~~~~~~~

_Only hours ago he'd strode the twisting corridors to Dumbledore's office in spirits utterly disjointed. At one moment his step shed an air of righteous poise, his expression one of confidence; the next it faltered and slowed, his eyes darting about in a paranoid fashion, the hand gripping the plain brown-paper wrapped package--which held his dire solution--sweating, and his free one fisted at his side to cease its shaking. _

_In front of the statue, he'd taken a deep breath and muttered in trembling whispers a self-composed prayer for comfort, 'May mind and body coalesce, divine me strength from bleak unrest', then followed it clearly with the current password. He'd exhaled and entered in surge of robes before he could change his mind. And only when he was safely back in his dungeon quarters, did he allow his thoughts to interpret the encounter and the intensity of the emotions he had felt._

_After being bade to enter, he'd purposely left the door open, signifying his intended desire for the briefness of the meeting. A clipped 'Good Afternoon' and four paces to the desk later he'd stood, denied the offer of a seat, and handed over his burden without a word._

_Dumbledore had merely grasped it in both hands, his arms resting atop the desk, and gazed at him with questioning eyes. He'd returned the look with one he knew had been understood, and had contained the intensity of a thousand meanings and emotions. Willing him to not ask questions, to let him go, before he broke down. When the headmaster's pupils dilated, swelling with comprehension and what he'd hoped was love, he'd bowed lightly in a gesture of appreciation and respect. Then murmuring a final farewell to his greatest friend, he'd turned on his heel and left, the door closing with a click behind him. No turning back._

_As he'd made the trek back to his small sanctuary at a pace nearer to a run than a walk he'd thought only of Albus; behind his desk reading over the packages contents and having no choice but to align his signature next to Severus' own, approving his cause of resignation from his staffing postions and responsibilities at the school. Moving on to flip morbidly through the pages of his Last Will and Testament, and finding attached a page he'd ripped out of his dairy--the last page._

~~~~~~~

Lucius smiled sardonically. "How sweet of you Severus, how pathetically sweet."

Severus said nothing, why argue the truth. He'd been pathetic since birth.

"Did you cry when I left you Sevy? Did you hmm?"

He found his voice, but what it said only furthered his despair. "I thought you loved me."

Lucius moved in close, bending to eye level. "Oh, I did Severus. I loved you just as much as I loved any of my toys," he smiled again.

An embittered rage erupted in Severus' gut. He curled his lip, clenching his jaw. If he'd been free he might have killed the fucker, but he wasn't, so he settled with spiting in his accursed face.

It earned him a well placed punch in the mouth, but on the whole it was worth the pain, but made him too dizzy to feel the tip of the wand pressing into his chest, or hear the whispered curse. The scream that ripped from his throat sounded worlds away. Cruciatus again, this time his tortured muscles had no slack to writhe. It was like being electrocuted, without the relief of cardiac arrest. And then it was over. Voldemort's impatience had put a stop to Lucius' play time. He hovered before Severus once more, looking gravely up at the stars.

"The hour grows near, and time grows short," he paused, focusing back on his captive. "No need to worry Severus, your 'failure' to secure Harry Potter was the predicted outcome, so you have done nothing to stall my plans. I have a very special death in store for you, and shortly after my Death Eaters will have arrived bearing the gift I desire. You see, I already know where Potter is and as we speak he is being kidnapped."

Severus had not the will left to hide his horror. He gaped.

"Don't look so surprised Severus, have you not wondered where the others are?"

"I...no. I-"

"How very disappointing. You've gotten careless in your old age, Severus," he shook his head. "Too quick to rush to your death and be martyred. That is what you'd envisioned, is it not? Martyrdom. A fame in death who's opposite you could only achieve in life. The _infamous_ made famous with one act of selflessness."

Fresh tears oozed from his bloodshot eyes, Goddamn them. And Goddamn him for his infallible weaknesses. Somebody save him, please.

"Oh, stop your sniveling," the Dark Lord snapped. " The time has come for it to end. The time for me to rise above all in power." He reached into his robe, and Severus squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, thank God.

He waited and the moment passed. Cautiously opening his eyes, he noticed that rather than the wand Severus had expected him to pull out of his robes, in his hands lay a small satchel. It was a very curious little bag, so dark and black even compared to the surrounding night. Blacker than the Dark Lords robes, as it sat in his hands it blotted them out like a hole into space, a tear in this dimension into one of absolute darkness.

He feared the thing, he felt its pull. What kind of object did the otherworldly fabric hold within its bindings? What manner of horror could he feel willing its releasal from the velvety confines of the bag?

He spoke, his voice cracking. "What-what is...," but faded off when the Dark Lord met his eyes.

Voldemort clutched the satchel in out-stretched hands and whispered. "This....this is the key...to _everything_." In his words lay a quiet intensity, madness filled the air. "The stone within will relinquish its prisoner through the eyes of a mortal and the Haunter will betray its secrets upon the summoner with a sacrifice. Answers to questions, Severus. Answers to _every_ question. Enlightenment. Illumination. I shall be a _God_. And your death will secure me that power. You will be the first."

Severus opened his mouth to shout, to protest, to, to _anything_, but the sound vanished before it could even leave his throat, sucked into nothingness by some atmospheric vacuum. The bag had been opened.

Lucius stood tense and wary in the background as the Dark Lord slipped a claw-like hand into the satchel; while Severus watched in grim fascination, his own fear momentarily forgotten, as Voldemort's eyes swelled with perverse desire, they waited for the stone to be revealed. Slowly the hand drew out of the bag, the stone clenched tightly within, as Voldemort's body quivered and shuddered at the touch of the thing. Severus fought to keep his eyes from closing and to stay focused, fought to ignore the sensation of ghastly tendrils raking through his mind. A glance at Lucius told him that he too could sense the molestation. Absolute tension permeated the place, the grass seemed to shiver in expectation, the very stones seemed to vibrate and sing.

And then something happened.

Something shocking and grand and terrible all at once. Voldemort was knocked clear off his feet. He made a garbled screech, the stone slipping from his grasp. There wasn't even time enough for Severus to rejoice at the possibility of a miracle, or to think at all for that matter. Lucius dove to the Dark Lords assistance after a moments shock. And only he saw it, witnessed almighty Chaos in the act of fate alteration, or perhaps fate creation, saw the stone bounce and roll to an awkward stop at a pair of shoes. Shoes that only seconds previous were not there at all, shoes that presumably contained feet which belonged to the body of a boy who's name was none other than Harry Potter.

~~~~~~~

That's it for now, will update once more in a week or less. Oh, and this is taking place the around the first week of Harry's summer vaca. before seventh year. I neglected to mention that earlier, sorry.

The poem is the second half of 'A Dream Within a Dream' by Edgar Allen Poe, who will have a tye-in with Severus. That's all for now. Hope it was satisfactory and your interests are still piqued. Please leave a review if you could so I know if it's coming along okay and thanks to everyone who already has.

Note to Silene Acaulis: yes, at some point there will be stuff from Amnesiac. And I listened and listen to Radiohead for writing this, also some Coldplay(their good too). Have you seen Radiohead in concert? If not, make every effort to, their incredible, it was f-ing spiritual. And not queer spiritual like those people you see on those Christian music commercials at concerts all weeping and passing out. I'm talking trippy, I'm bombed from all the second-hand pot-smoke(or perhaps some of your own), and may this moment never end spiritual. 


	5. A spider web and it's me in the middle

~A spider web and it's me in the middle~

The scream sounded strangely convoluted to his sleep soaked brain. He'd been dreaming something hot and heavy and mischievous, and though a scream fit in with the general context, it rang a bit too vivid to be a mental creation.

Harry groggily sat up, instinctively reaching out for the glasses laying atop his nightstand. As the second scream punctuated the quiet still of the house, he nearly crushed the fragile things, his heart jolting in his chest. Adrenalin tingled through his abdomen, spreading outwards and upwards. God, please say this isn't happening now.

His aunts terrified yell of his uncles name, did nothing to reassure him. Tense and fear-filled he climbed out of bed, numb from the waist down. He forced himself toward the door, willing his mind to remain calm. It was bound to happen sooner or later. The calms never last forever, and Voldemort surely wasn't going to just retire from war-mongering without a descent pension. As his fingers closed around the knob, a frantic rustling ensued in the hallway, and gunshots rang out, more shouting. He ducked to one knee, tears stung his eyes. _Be brave Harry, be a Gryffindor._

He cracked the door, peering out and down the hall toward the bathroom. He could barely see in the insufficient light of darkness. Something large and hairy blocked out most of the scene. It moved. Harry's eyes focused, it was his uncle Vernon, clad in boxer shorts and staring through the sight on his double-barrelled shotgun.

"You, come right out of there now, Scum!" he bellowed. "Come out, and maybe I won't shoot you too!" Too?

Harry pulled the door open further so the end of the hall came in view. Light angled out from the bathroom with abstract geometry and fell across a body lying on the floor. The wall was spattered with blood, a pool of it was soaking into the carpet. He needed his wand. Needed to slip out behind the unfolding nightmare to the cupboard under the stairs where all his magical stuff was kept locked away from use for the summer. On the count of three. One. Slide the door open a bit more. Two. Brace yourself. Thr-

"Petunia!"

Fuck! Harry jumped back. He took a shaky breath, sweat beading on his brow, and peeked out again. A figure, no, two, stood outside the bathroom door. A wizard cloaked in robes of deep red, face shrouded in a fine mesh material of the same color, tight enough to see the barest hint of features, but that was it. A Death Eater. Whomever it was held his aunt with an arm around her neck, she was trembling and tear streaked, blood leaked from a gash on her forehead.

"Let her go!" Harry could hear the tremors in his uncle's voice. "Let her go, and I'll let you go."

The Death Eater didn't reply, instead lifted his wand and placed the tip to his hostages temple.

The voice when it spoke was masculine with the barest hint of an accent. "Give me the boy or I'll kill her and all of you. I make the deals here."

His uncle's eyes flitted to his doorway and spotted him watching from the shadows. "What boy?" Vernon questioned, taking a step back.

There was an audible growl, his aunt whimpered. "Vernon...," she pleaded as she was forced forward a step, still in the masked mans clutches.

"You _know _what _boy_, filthy Muggle! Hand him over or she dies." He pressed the wand harder into her temple in emphasis.

As his Uncle Vernon took another step back, aligning himself with his bedroom, Harry stared blankly into space. His thoughts were turning self-destructive as he contemplated giving himself up. Why should these people die for him? They hated him. No, he would go out with dignity. He'd free them from their duties once and for all.

No sooner had the thought been conjured, than a large arm snatched purposefully into his bedroom. Harry found himself yanked by the shirt collar into the hall and slammed ungracefully against the wall. The muzzle of the shotgun was pressed hard into his chest before his shout of surprise and protest could be properly executed; causing it to come out rough and garbled instead.

"You let her go!" Harry watched his Uncle's pale face flash red. "Let her go or I'll blow him clean through this wall!" He spit with the words, his eyes wide with a crazed intensity, and Harry had no doubt he would follow through with the threat. His expression was ugly, in the deepest, darkest sense of the word. It was animalistic and raw with fear and hate.

When he thought back upon the incident, Harry realized that, at that moment he lost the very last of his faith in humanity. And he wanted to be sick, he wanted to cry. He _wanted_ Vernon to do it. For the past six years he'd knowingly lived the life of a target, been exposed to a level of fame he did not want or deserve, and whenever things had seemed like they were getting better, they only got worse.

~~~~~~~

_At the start of fifth year Dumbledore he'd been summoned by Dumbledore, it was time for him to make a choice. He could either continue on as he was and when the war began go into hiding, or play an active role in it and begin learning how to fight and to better protect himself. The choice for Harry had been an obvious one. He'd fight. Dumbledore had seemed pleased with his decision and not in the least surprised. They'd discussed what he'd be learning and all was well, that is until he was informed of whom his trainer would be, none other than Severus Snape. That's when he'd begun pleadiing with the Headmaster to choose someone else, preferably someone who didn't have a deeply ingrained hatred for him. That day he'd miserably trudged through his classes convinced some higher power was out to get him. But yet again, not everything had been as bad as it seemed, and three months into his training he could finally admit he was actually enjoying it. Though that particular lesson had left much to be desired._

_He'd hit the floor for the fifth time, and it had hurt like a bitch. Professor Snape stood over him hands on his hips._

_"What the hell are you doing, Potter?"_

_"Getting my ass kicked, sir."_

_"I can see that. And what do you think would be done with you had this been a real encounter?"_

_"I'd probably be seconds away from being 'drawn and quartered'." He'd muttered, standing and brushing himself off._

_"Worse, I'd venture," Snape had answered gravely. "Your not concentrating, and if you don't start concentrating I'm going to suggest to Madame Pomfrey that she graft your wand to your hand, because God forbid should you ever loose it in an emergency."_

_"They'd only cut my hand off in that case." He'd stated, getting back into his fighting stance._

_Snape had snorted, resuming his. "Yes, they would."_

_Once more Snape started towards him, he'd blocked a series of punches, swung a few of his own which were blocked in return and fell into a pattern. Broken once again when Snape had attempted to kick his feet out from under him, but that time he'd jumped and landed safely. Snape had come at him faster, and he'd met the pace. The man was a surprisingly good fighter, quick and precise, seeming to know what Harry was going to do before he knew himself. Snape had swung at his head, he'd ducked, swung once again toward his right side, he'd jumped left, a lunge forward accompanied by another attempt at his head, blocked, a knee to the gut, and he'd doubled over in pain._

_"Oh, for Christs sake," Snape had growled, flinging his hands up in frustration. "At this rate I'll have killed you before Voldemort ever gets the chance."_

_He'd straightened up still holding his stomach. "I'm sorry, sir. I just...I can't do this today. Something happened last night that's really bothering me, I can't think straight." At Snapes raised eyebrow, he'd added, "Nothing bad, really, just...I don't know. Nevermind."_

_"Very well. Your dismissed, Potter. It's not as if we're getting any where to begin with." Snape had grumbled moving to sit at his desk and shuffling through some papers that need grading._

_"I didn't say I wanted to leave," He'd blurted, annoyed._

_Snape glared at him, "Well, what do you want to do? Just stand there staring like an idiot, because I don't think you need much practice at that, you're quite good at it already. Though perhaps adding a bit of drool, would further enhance the dim-wittedness of the atmosphere you seem to naturally project."_

_He'd had to refrain from laughing at that, since he'd stopped taking most of the harsh things Severus said so personally, the man become that much more humorous. Hopefully, someday when they were closer he could feel free to reply to those comments with ones of his own without fearing a horrible death as the consequence._

_After standing in silent contemplation he'd decided to tell Snape what was on his mind and see what would come of it. His need to express his dilemma had apparently won out over his sensibility--Snape would argue, what sensibility._

_"Ginny Weasley tried to kiss me last night." He'd waited for the onslaught of negativity when Severus gazed up at him suddenly. When none was forthcoming he'd continued. "It's not that I don't think she's pretty or nice, I just couldn't let her. I can't let her."_

_"Why not?"_

_Most definitely not what he'd thought Snape would say. Rather, he'd assumed he'd be berated for dwelling on trivialities when important time was at stake, time that was slowly dwindling. None of them knew when Voldemort would strike next, he'd been in a state of suspended animation for the summer and all of fifth year up to that point and the lack of any significant attempts at anything had the whole wizarding world on edge. So, Snape had wanted to know why he hadn't kissed Ginny. He'd laughed momentarily, as the whole affair suddenly struck him as being quite funny. Not a good idea as it turned out._

_"I fail to see the humor in my question, Potter. So if you'd kindly get on with answering it or not, I may be able to salvage some of this wasted time," Severus had declared harshly, crossing his arms over his chest._

_"I'm sorry," Harry sobered up. "I hadn't expected you to care, that's all."_

_"As it happens, I don't care. But if relieving yourself of this thing that is bothering you will enable you to concentrate, so be it," he'd paused, thinking. "And if you don't feel comfortable speaking with me then perhaps you should consult your own Head of House, or schedule an appointment with Dumbledore."_

_He'd been unable to stifle another chuckle at the thought of 'consulting' Professor McGonagall with his particular predicament. "Heh, sorry. It's just...I don't think Professor McGonagall will be much help with this sort problem." He'd shrugged. "No, you'll have to do."_

_Severus'd snorted. "So glad to have been given your stamp of approval."_

_Ignoring that bit of sarcasm he'd plunged into his story, explaining the occurrences of the night before. How he'd gone straight back to the Gryffindor common room after their late-running lesson and Ginny had been the only one still up. They'd talked some and he'd asked if she was okay and why she was still up. She'd stated that she'd been waiting for him, and when he'd asked why her response had been because she had something to tell him. That's when she'd gotten real close, so close he could feel her breath on his lips, clearly about to kiss him, but he'd pulled away, shocked. And before he could say a word she'd run up to bed crying._

_"The problem is I know she's really upset, she wouldn't so much as look at me all day. And I don't know how to tell her that it wasn't her personally; to tell her the real reason I couldn't kiss her." He'd fiddled nervously, clutching at his robes._

_"Which is?"_

_He'd come to the hardest part, with no idea what Snape would think of him afterwards. He'd gone for it, of course, his reaction would be a good gauge for the inevitable future confessions he'd have to make to many people regarding the same subject, if Snape could handle it anyone could._

_"Professor, sir, I don't fancy girls."_

_He'd seen the surprise in Severus' expression and in the way he'd sat forward suddenly. His heart, which had already been beating double time, made the leap to triple time as Severus left him in silent suspense for far to long._

_"Umm, sir. You don't have a problem with that do you?"_

_"Hmm...no. To be perfectly frank, so do I. I'm merely contembuzz...buzz wahh buzzuz buzz buzwahzuz....."_

_He had no idea what Snape had said after the first sentence, and it didn't matter. His nonchalant confession had blown Harry's mind. And had inadvertantly set emotions in motion that had previously only existed as the tiniest of sparks, he'd done more than fan the fire, he'd poured rocket fuel on it._

~~~~~~~

A high pitched cackle broke the serenity of memory. The Death Eater laughed at his Uncle's foolish stubborness. Muggles, so ridiculous in their stupidity.

"Go ahead. Kill him," he taunted.

The muzzle was digging into his chest, but it no longer hurt. Nothing hurt, not even the constant pain he felt in his heart, and when he was dead nothing would ever hurt again. He closed his eyes and waited.

~~~~~~~

_"Potter, will you at the very least attempt to look like your paying attention? Christ! That's the third time you've zoned out in the last half-hour. Presumably five minutes per lapse, which totals fifteen minutes, which means that exactly half the time you've spent here has been a complete waste of both our times!" Severus had all but growled the last three words._

_He'd jumped, wincing slightly at the sharp words of his Professor, and blushing in embarrassment as if his illicit thoughts were written plainly in the air for all to see. It'd been a while since Severus--he'd taken the liberty of using Snapes first name, if in thought only--had gotten like that with him, at least in private. If anything it was a testament to his growing malaise. It was getting so hard to keep it hidden._

_"I'm sorry, Professor." He truly was._

_"And that's the third doleful apology you've given me."_

_Severus had leaned up against his desk and gazed at him curiously with one eyebrow cocked, trying to see through his defenses. He'd stared back as long as he possibly could, and then reluctantly looked away with a sigh. He'd lost this one._

_"So out with it."_

_"I don't want this." Not exactly what he'd been thinking about._

_He'd said it because he'd known Severus would only get exasperated at the simple, yet aboundingly complex statement. They'd already been through it twice since sixth year began. But still, he'd felt the need to say it, even though it was pointless and he was stuck with the cards fate had drawn for him. The same line of thinking had driven him to anger once again, as it always had, so he'd continued before Severus could voice a reply._

_"I don't want to be here. I don't want to learn how to cast the Unforgivables. Or learn hand to hand combat. I don't want to be conditioned to endure Cruciatus or fight off Imperius. Or be told who to trust and who not to. And I don't want to have to save the world!"_

_Professor Snape had remained silent during his brief but intense tirade, and when he'd finally spoken he'd managed to surprise Harry yet again._

_"What do you want?"_

_A home. My parents. Somebody to love me," He'd paused to repress a swelling wave of sadness. The same one he'd fought to repress every day since the excitment and unfamiliarity of being a wizard wore away exposing the harsh reality of his situation. "God, Severus, I want to live and breathe. I want to be part of the human race. I feel as if I'm always on the outside looking in."_

_"It can be peaceful on the outside." Severus had murmured, staring through rather than at him._

_"But lonely, Professor. So fucking lonely."_

_He'd feared a tongue lashing for his language, and for presuming to call Snape by his given name. None had been forthcoming however, in fact, Severus appeared not to have noticed at all. A moment passed before he'd focused on Harry and when he did he'd approached the desk without a word and kneeled down to eye level. Harry merely waited quietly._

_Severus had looked into his eyes thoughtfully. "You've already saved the world once Harry, I believe it's statistically impossible for you to do it again."_

_He'd listened to the words, processed them, and then cracked up. It had been an insane thing to do, but the statement had struck him as the most hilarious and terrible piece of advice he'd ever been given._

_"If that...hah...if that was meant to be reassurance," he broke into a fit of giggling before resuming. "Then, let me tell you, it failed miserably."_

_Severus had looked insulted as he stood up. "Piss off, Potter."_

_Though beneath the ever present sarcasm, Harry had detected a hint of amusement, beneath the sneer the faint outline of a smile. He'd noted the time and rose to leave, wishing him a goodnight as he opened the door._

_"Goodnight, Potter." Severus had muttered before adding, "And five points from Gryffindor for the use of vulgarity in the presence of a teacher." Then with a swish of his robes he'd entered his office and shut the door._

_That night was the first night a loss of points hadn't bothered him. There were, he'd come to realize, more important things to worry about._

~~~~~~~

Somewhere in a patch of secluded woodland in Ireland a battle raged, and people lay dying.

~~~~~~~

_It had been a day he'd never forget, and a day he'd forever regret. He'd acted on impulse--Severus would argue when didn't he--though the urge had been there and growing inside of him for weeks. First in stomach, a warm tingling, a rush of heat, and a fuzziness in his head that he'd ignored or attributed to excitment at a general closeness to another human being, one that seemingly understood him better than he understood himself at times. It had stopped mattering some time ago that that person was Severus Snape. When his brain--an organ well suited to picking out patterns--finally noticed that said feelings seemed to occur with a growing frequency in the presence of and whenever its thoughts turned to the aforementioned potions master, something clicked. He had a crush and he didn't need to figure out on who. It was a disconcerting epiphany to say the least, according to his mind; which was, with every extracurricular training session slowly being swayed into a unanimous state of desire with the rest of him._

_He'd been sitting cross-legged on the floor of the potions classroom meditating and practicing energy manipulation. Severus had been standing over a cauldron of something or other, every once in a while shooting a spell at him which he would harmlessly deflect. They had both been silent for most of the hour he'd been there when he'd started to feel restless, so he'd given up on meditating and laid back with his hands under his head. He'd watched Snape stirring behind him, upside down from his point of view, until a question surfaced, one he'd wanted an answer to for quite some time._

_"How come you became a Death Eater?"_

_Snape had glanced at him, emotion flashing in his eyes for only an instant, before his attention returned to the potion. FIve minutes slipped by, but he'd known if he was patient he'd get an answer, and he did._

_"I was young and foolish and had absolutely no perspective," Severus stated with disgust, walking over and leaning against his desk in his customary fashion. He'd sat up and faced his Professor, waiting for him to continue. "In truth, Harry, I ask myself that very same question every day, and have yet to come up with a sufficient answer to it."_

_He'd decided to leave it at that, it had been more than he'd expected anyway, and the casual use of his first name by Severus made him happy. It had been occuring more and more lately as they grew increasingly relaxed in each others company, in private at least. Snape was still an utter git to him in class, but it had ceased to bother him, it didn't matter as long as he had these moments. He'd watched Severus during that latest bout of silence, noticing how he seemed to sink into himself as he relived some distant fragment of his sordid past, until another question bubbled to the surface._

_"Have you ever been in love?"_

_A much riskier question to be sure, but oh, how he wanted to know._

_Another flash as dark absymal pupils darted up and out of reverie boring a hole in him, heated emotion gone as quickly as it was realized. He'd watched as the walls fell back into place._

_"Love is suicide." Severus had stated bitterly, stalking over to check the cauldron he'd left simmering._

_Harry had smiled. "That doesn't answer my question."_

_That had earned him the patented glare of doom. "Since when am I obligated to answer to you!" He'd spat angrily._

_"Since never, I suppose," Harry'd murmured simply with a shrug, letting it go._

_Silence descended once again and Harry would have been lying if he said he hadn't been disappointed. Though he hadn't truly anticipated an answer. Bored, he'd moved to get up and go see what Severus was concocting when a single word startled him into stillness._

_"Once."_

_Once was enough, Harry had thought, to prove he's an absolute human._

_"Ron thinks he's in love with Hermione." He'd admitted while they were on the subject of love. Rising to stand he'd continued. "They've been dating since yhe beginning of this school year. It seems to me all they're ever doing is fighting or snogging, or a combination of both." He'd arrived to stand next to Severus, watching as he stirred methodically._

_"And I care to know this why?"_

_"I never told them," he'd paused. "You know, that I prefer boys." He glanced up at Severus. "Did you find it hard to tell your friends?"_

_"I had no friends, Potter. You should know that, should have heard all about it from that unbearable Godfather of yours."_

_He'd felt slightly bad for bringing it up because he did know a bit in fact and from that exact source. "You must have had one?"_

_"Yes, one." His melancholic Professor mumbled in apparant acknowledgement as he drifted into memory again. Only a brief happening this time, and when he'd refocused he'd noted the time. "Dismissed, Potter."_

_Harry had nodded and retrieved his things, knowing Severus would be behind him following to remove the wards he'd placed on the door. It wouldn't do to have someone barging in and getting blasted by an errant spell during their training sessions. Not that many had the nerve to barge into any room occupied by Snape. He'd waited while Severus whispered the removal spells, watching as he concentrated, watching his lips as they'd moved to mold the correct words. And that's when he saw it, read it in the lines on the older mans face, and in the half-lidded depths of his eyes. A tiredness, expanding and absolute. One that begged to be given leave of the whole charade and allowed some time to sleep, to heal, to simply be. The very same tiredness Harry himself felt with each passing day, a feeling that threatened to slowly comsume him._

_"Severus....,"_

_His lips had whispered the name before he'd had the chance to stop them, and with a passion he'd not known they could evoke into a single word. Snape had looked at him, obviously confused by the utterance. He'd ventured on, that familiar warmth spreading through his insides._

_"You're tired...you.."_

_Once more whispered as he'd let his bag slip to the floor and taken a step forward, sufficient enough to invade the heated space surrounding Severus. He'd reached up and pushed some unruly strands of hair from out of Severus' face, not removing his hand, instead letting it softly caress its way down his neck to the collar of his robes. There it gripped lightly and he'd only to stretch up onto his toes to be at eye level._

_"You need...," he'd breathed, at first brushing his lips against Severus' in a chaste kiss. "Somebody."_

_He'd pressed their lips together again, harder, and placed his other hand on Severus' cheek, his thumb rubbing at the corner of his mouth. He'd moved his lips, wishing for the man to respond, and added his tongue to the melee. At that Severus' mouth had opened, mostly out of shock he now realized, but at the time he'd only taken it as opportunity, shoving his tongue into the wet warmth and reveling in it. God, it had been so hot._

_Severus had responded after that, had allowed himself to slip and taste the forbidden, however brief it had been. Too brief according to Harry. He had kissed back, hesitantly at first, then letting his hand fall from the doorknob, he'd grasped Harry's hair pulling it and him back some allowing them to stand comfortably while Severus leaned forward slightly, taking control. Such beautiful control. His tongue had driven Harry to a state of delirium. He'd moaned into Snape's mouth and it only seemed to incite the fervour, until. And, of course, there had to be an until, a but, an except stuck smack dab in the center of his happiness. To make matters all the more annoying this 'until' had been entirely his doing. As their lips had parted for a moment, allowing each much needed oxygen, he'd moaned again. Adding to it a word, the word that had been the unraveler of his heart, the destroyer of his hope, the stupidest thing he'd ever Goddamn said._

_"Mnmm.....Professor..."_

_Way to bring one to their senses. He'd been shoved so hard he'd stumbled back, stepped on his bag and fallen into a heap on the floor. The horror on Snapes face shutting off his anger in a veritable instant._

_"Severus." He'd begun to plead. "I...pl-"_

_"Get out," The quiet malice dripped from Snape's lips like poison._

_He'd struggled to his feet, reaching for Snape. "But...wait, Severus I-"_

_Snape had backed away, yanking open the door at the same time, he'd pointed. "Get. Out. Now!"_

_That time Harry didn't fight it, he'd merely snatched his bag from the floor, straightened his robes and stepped through the door. He'd glanced back at Snape, his expression wounded and longing, his eyes glittering with a sheen of unshed tears. Behind him the door was slammed with such force that sprinklings of dust and mortar fell from aound its frame onto him. And he'd cried, standing rejected outside the potions classroom. He'd have thought that he'd be used to it by now, he'd been rejected his whole fucking life it seemed._

_After that he'd only tried once to speak with Severus about it, and he'd recieved a look that had shriveled his soul. 'A mistake,' Snape had bitten out, 'that shall never be repeated.' From then on their sessions were strictly business, no pleasantries in the least, no hellos, or goodbyes. He'd just walk in, learn what Snape taught him and leave. A pattern repeated for the last three months of his sixth year, and as he focused it only got it easier to hide his feelings, a good thing because they'd never went away._

~~~~~~~

The tension had built to near tangible levels, something had to give, and Uncle Vernon was it.

Harry opened his eyes when his uncle's hand grabbed him by the throat. He met his guardians eye and had to look away, his eyes were black and desperate, he was pasty white and sweating. He seemed possessed with a horror beyond anything Voldemort could ever attain. He was scared, so very scared. He wanted someone, anyone. Most of all he wanted Severus.

Vernon threw him roughly by the throat into the space between two evils. He stumbled and fell to his knees.

"There, take him. Just give me my wife," Vernon half-growled, half-shouted.

"Very well."

Harry raised his head and watched the Death Eater relenquish his hold on his Aunt. He pushed her forward, then spoke. "Come here, boy."

As his Aunt stepped closer Harry stood, he moved toward the Death Eater, obeying his command. He only wanted this to be over.

Petunia was within arms reach of Vernon when all hell broke loose. And only Harry knew the meaning of the words that were spoken.

"Avada Kedavra."

The most unforgivable of all the unforgivables, hissed with hatred from a featureless mouth. The spiraling greenish light shot from the Death Eaters outstretched wand, it whipped past his head, singeing the tips of his hair and the side of his face. He turned as it passed and watched as it engulfed his Aunt Petunia. Her scream was inhuman, it distorted as her lungs and throat were burned away, literally vaporized. Her extremities collapsing in on themselves as her middle crumbled to the floor only ashes. And in the span of three seconds all that remained was a dark burn on the carpet, a pile of ashes and her legs. Harry felt the bile rise up his throat. Her legs, one from the knee down and the other about half of that, lay perfect and untouched on the pile, house slippers still snug and warm on her feet. He threw up. Wishing he'd closed his eyes because now he knew in vivid detail what had happened to his parents the night they sacrificed themselves for him. They'd been reduced by that blasphemous fire to nothing but a pile of ashes and legs. He threw up again, spilling a days worth of meals onto the carpet with all the rest of the disgust.

Vernons howl echoed through his skull, and shook his soul. Harry saw him aim his shotgun and he'd no other option but to drop to the floor, sprawling in his own vomit. A single shot ripped through his ears, he felt drops of blood spatter him. To afraid to move he waited to hear the Death Eater in front of him drop, but it never happened, instead something heavy fell and landed half on him. Turning to the side, his eyes met Vernons, they were glazed over and wide with shock. Blood streamed from a mouth that gaped and gasped reflexively for air. Harry screamed drowning out the Death Eaters laughter, shoving his Uncle's dying body off of him. His only surviving family was dead. He was alone, alone with this cackling madman.

~~~~~~~

Apologies for this being a few days late. I had really wanted to catch up with where the last left off in one chapter, but alas, it could not be. As usual, some type of response would be excellent and very appreciated so I know if this is progressing satisfactorily or not. And Thanks to everyone who's already reviewed, you guys rock.

Also, there are some lyrics and such in here but do to this crappy text program I only have the room left for this sentence. Will acknowledge them in a review.


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